Every Name In The Book
by snarechan
Summary: Based off of situations in my fic ‘Route One’ A week has passed, and Jak is still coming to terms with becoming a ‘mom’. Oh the horror.


Every Name In The Book

By Snare-chan

**Pairings**: Hinted Jinx/Jak  
**Ratings**: T  
**Category(ies)**: General  
**Warning(s)**: Cussing  
**Status**: One-shot  
**Summary**: (Based off of situations in my fic 'Route One') A week has passed, and Jak is still coming to terms with becoming a 'mom'. Oh the horror.

**Notes**: Oh yeah, you just had to see this coming. If you didn't, then shame on you. Or run away quickly...while you still can.

**Disclaimer**: I dun own Jak and Daxter, Jak II, Jak 3 or Jak…anything; wish I did like everyone else. They should put Jak in stock, then I'd buy it all!

* * *

Raising a baby metal head, as it turns out, is not an easy thing. 

He didn't learn about this from a book, and not just because he didn't bother to read. No one told him this either, most likely because no one had been stupid or daring enough to attempt it. Jak knew this by none other than firsthand experience.

Why, you ask?

Because it so happens that on one particular mission, one dubbed him its mother. To this day, he'll never understand why it thought he was good parent material. Out of the three possible candidates at the time – a chain smoker, an ottsel, and himself – it chose the one with a gun three times its size.

Oh sure, he'd tried to do the logical thing. Taking care of the enemy is definitely not on his list of things to do before he dies. It might seem cruel, but the creature would be better off if he got rid of it before it raised serious problems. So what did the little beast do when he tried to grant it a favor? Dived down his pants _every single time_, and there's absolutely no way he's putting anything pointy or remotely destructive near _that_.

So the little bastard lives, days after the mission, and will continue to strike terror and pain into those who cross its path till it dies in some freak accident or of old age. By all appearances, the baby metal head will live quite a long life.

At first, it wasn't so bad. It was kind of like just having another Daxter hanging around, which, to some, might understandably be a _very_ bad thing. On one hand, the 'perks' his friend has aren't present in the metal head. Like his habit of talking…all the time. Besides a few hisses now and then, it's otherwise quiet. The baby MH does have its own quirks too, such as its issue of biting everything it comes in contact with. Jak's fingers have learned this lesson first hand (pun not intended).

Now it's taking some getting used to.

Like most children – if you can rightly call the small metal head as such – it has gotten past the initial first-born stage and moved onto the terrible twos. When he took notice of the subtle observing and copying motions the little thing took to doing in its free time, he was more than slightly disturbed. Having those beady little eyes following him around all the time made him subconscious of what he was doing almost constantly.

It started with small things, like taking showers and sleeping in bed just like him. Jak wasn't sure what to make of this in the beginning, but soon just chalked it up as a metal head thing. It was young, and as his 'mommy,' the idea of the thing letting Jak out of its sight seemed unlikely. As stated before, it was like having another Daxter around to watch out for, so it simply took double precautions to make sure he didn't accidentally roll over onto it by mistake (which has already resulted in two painful wakeup calls). And did you know metal heads gurgle and like soapy backrubs? Well, they do.

Then came the more…serious instances. The scariest thus far had to be the time it tried to use his gun. He'd been taking a nap between assignments at the time, and since the metal head has hit that stage where naps are uncool, it took to exploring Jak's things and the room in general while he rested. His excuse for letting it roam unsupervised was that he didn't care what it was doing, simply because that meant as long as it wasn't trying to kill anyone then the distraction was much appreciated.

Somehow, it had wrapped its tail around the trigger or used its mouth or _something_ and let a couple dozen shots go before Jak or his partner was awake enough to handle the situation. He would have dealt with it faster had Dax not been clinging to his face so desperately, not that his friend would admit to having been scared. Moral of the story is: Jak learned his lesson. From then on he always removed his mods, switched it to safety and tucked it away when not in use.

Upon relating the story to Tess, she'd merely laughed, thinking it 'cute' that the baby metal head was trying to imitate him as if he really were its mother and just trying to 'hunt' like he does. Neither him nor Daxter found amusement in it like she did, nor did anyone else, for that matter.

He did, however, find it interesting whenever the metal head tries to drink with him. Since one of the Freedom League bases turns out to be held at the Naughty Ottsel, Jak often gets a drink while being briefed. Many thought him reckless for it, even careless, but he was positive that if they were in his position, they'd want some loosening up as well.

The glasses he orders aren't shots, but served in the nice tall glasses reserved for the harder, more expensive drinks. On the rare occasion that he doesn't drink it all in a couple chugs, the metal head will simply dive right in. Literally. Just a couple days have passed since its birth, so it's still relatively small, and thus able to fit a good half its body into the cup. Most of the time he has to forcefully pull the creature out, since it often ends up getting stuck at the bottom of the glass.

Unfortunately, he's not able to do that much anymore. Jak has grown tired of hearing Torn's complaints about the baby leaving behind unpleasant 'presents' all over his maps and equipment. Such is life; his partner would often say in times like this.

Speaking of Daxter, he's taken to the newcomer rather well, or at least as well as to be expected. He'd been attempting to get along with the creature as much as possible, though the metal head isn't as inclined to do so. In fact, it seems rather hell-bent on taking his place, much to his friend's chagrin.

A scuffle over who gets to sit on his shoulder had already come and gone, and Jak separating the two on opposite ends settled it. The imbalance had to be dealt with, but it kind of feels like having his conscious resting up there. Save he seems to have two devils sitting there instead of an angel. That thankfully doesn't happen much, since the MH enjoys resting in his shirt more often than not. He can handle looking knocked-up any day of the week when the alternative is having his ear used as a chew-toy during a seek-and-destroy mission.

On more than one occasion, he's been glad he decided never to get his ears pierced, too.

"Heya, pretty boy. I see you're still in the throes of…uh…parentin'?"

With a start, Jak was brought out of his thoughts as a casual arm was slung over his shoulder. Not many dared to be so bold, so he wasn't all that surprised when he saw that it was Jinx sitting in the stool directly beside him. Normally even the pony-tailed blonde wouldn't be this touchy-feely, but apparently he wasn't the only one who took notice that they were in a bar.

Absently, Jak tilted his head, trying to get a good look at the metal head, which appeared to be imitating a necklace, as it had wound its body around his neck, using his scarf as a makeshift hammock. It was contently dozing, oblivious to Jak's company. Usually it would be hissing and attacking whoever got too close, but Jinx seemed to escape its notice frequently.

"I guess you could say that," Jak answered carefully, taking a large swig of his drink before setting the empty glass down.

"Ya named it yet?"

Inclining his head slightly, the renegade wondered if the other was serious. He looked to be, his attention temporarily back to sipping his own drink, looking for the entire world like he was making idle chitchat.

"Not really," the renegade replied, shrugging as he started drinking right from the bottle. He had a sinking suspicion by Torn's demeanor that he was going to need it for his mission later tonight.

"How about…Fluffy?"

Jak nearly choked, his action causing the baby MH around his throat to curl up slightly in discomfort before it went back to lightly sleeping. Doubtful look in place, he eyed the other strangely before shaking his head in disbelief.

"You can't be serious. _Daxter_ is fluffy, not…this," he motioned towards his scarf to indicate his point. "It's actually more like a Fang, or a Claw…something _other_ than Fluffy."

"Fang? Now there's somethin' to work with," Jinx noted, his eyes trained back on his neck, even though he couldn't see the beast very well. "Seems kinda overrated if ya ask me."

Jak hesitantly agreed, not believing he was actually taking part in a discussion on what to name the blasted thing. "Yeah…what about Spits?"

"Spits? Not very feminine-like."

"Who said it's a girl?"

Jinx actually paused in taking a drink at that, his head turning to look at him for a moment before he finally took a sip. "Ya know it's a boy?"

"Well…no," Jak admitted. It's not like he'd ever had a reason to look. Personally, he hadn't had a reason to really care either.

"Then how do ya know?"

"Jinx, why would I risk my life to check and see what gender it is?"

"So you can name it properly?"

The renegade snorted at that. He was tempted to ask the other to do it himself if he was that hard pressed to relieve his curiosity, but decided against it. Jak took another long drink, knowing he wasn't loosened up enough yet if he could still clearly keep a conscience.

"We should name it TESSY POO like my beloved, sweet, innocent, lovely…are there any more adjectives I haven't used yet?" Daxter spoke up for the first time, his head sluggishly popping up from below the counter to rest on the rim. He must have gone light on the booze today if he was still awake.

"I doubt the Missus would appreciate us usin' her name for a metal head," Jinx pointed out absently, knowing full well the small rodent probably wasn't even able to understand a word he was saying.

"But she thinks it's a cute wittle…thingy…"

"Oh yeah, the beast is a dead ringer for Haven's beauty pageant."

"WHAT'CHA CALL MY WOMAN!"

Together, Jak and Jinx watched as Daxter tried to stand up and look intimidating, but only ended up collapsing against the counter in a deep sleep. The blonde quickly retracted his previous statement: his friend had indeed had enough to drink. The sudden outburst had even been enough to wake the young metal head, it's tiny head peeking out from his scarf to eye him like some dessert. Juuuuuust great.

The metal head made a curious 'chirping' like noise before sidling out of its comfortable resting place from Jak's scarf and shirt to slither towards the nearest drink. Jak pointedly capped his bottle, knowing by this point what a mess it would make trying to stick its far-too-large head down the way-too-little neck of the bottle. A repeat performance of trying to unstuck the little beast would surely be the end of them all.

It hissed at him in turn, obviously having forgotten what had happened the last time, displeased at the show. Instead it changed directions, tiny claws clicking against the once-smooth countertop as it sauntered over to eye Jinx's glass of ale like some small form of prey.

"Nasty little thing it is, eh?"

"You don't know the half of it."

The other blonde chuckled as the baby metal head none too gently nudged his hand, eyes still trained on the drink. Against his better judgment, he released it and let the thing go at it, replacing one poison for another as he lit a new cigarette. With a feral noise, it dunked head first into the glass, sloshing it around as it struggled to both take a swim and drink at the same time.

"An alcoholic at such a tender age? Ya should be ashamed of yerself as a mother, Jak."

"I didn't see you saying 'no' to it."

He chuckled, observing the scaly head emerge to release a pleased hiccurp – a combination of a burp and a hiccup. A long, slippery tongue peeked out to lick its chops, a sign Jak has become all to accustom too. At least it wasn't being directed at him.

"You should name it Jak Jr.," Jinx suddenly announced, a large ring of grey smoke emerging past dried lips.

"Jak what?"

"Jak Jr., cause it's like…got ya written all over it."

"It's as much like me as it is you," Jak huffed, uncapping his bottle of choice beverage from before. The conversation was turning out to be strange again and he didn't want to be coherent enough to try and sort through it all. He might be suicidal, but he wasn't _that_ suicidal.

"Nah, it doesn't have my handsomely scarred physique – and you'd know that best, wouldn't ya?" Ignoring his companion's ludicrous look, he mock cooed at the little beast, "How'da like that, huh? Jak Jr. sound-OUCH!"

The finger he'd been wagging at it seemed like easy prey and fell victim to a quick snip. In Jak's opinion, it served the guy right.

-Fin-


End file.
